


A Different Ride

by HisMissHarley13



Category: Sons of Anarchy
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-21
Updated: 2018-12-21
Packaged: 2019-09-24 09:50:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17098328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HisMissHarley13/pseuds/HisMissHarley13
Summary: Tig gives the reader some advice on riding...





	A Different Ride

You had been playfully twirling round the pole with Lyla, giggling and flirting as you danced around each other as well as the cool metal. Opie was smirking, but he only had eyes for his girl. Tig was practically salivating as the pair of you dropped and bounced to the music, gyrating against each other. Chibs and Bobby were half in awe at your moves and half amused at their Sgt at Arms. Tig was always all eyes for girls, but this rapt attention was something new. The guys were used to seeing you around TM and the bar, you were generally serving drinks or helping out around the garage. Dressed in bike jeans and hoodies, it was a world away from the little dress Lyla had dolled you up in, making up your face and curling your hair. She had announced how you needed to ‘look like a lady once in a while’ and you must admit, the reactions from the Sons was worth it!  The heels Lyla insisted on though were admittedly more troublesome than they were worth.  Try as you might, they just weren’t your boots and your legs felt alien.  

You forgot yourself as the music pumped, attempting a particularly ambitious twirl.  You inevitably lost your balance and your grip on the pole.  You shrieked as you fell, landing with an oomph in Chibs’ outstretched arms,

“Hello princess,” he chuckled, your rouged lips a perfect ‘o’ with the shock of your near-miss, “fallin for me again are ye?”

You kissed him on the cheek, “My hero,” you giggled, “Put me down before Tig has an aneurism hey?”  Your feet hit the floor and you strutted towards the door, “I need a smoke,” you announced.

Tig followed like an eager puppy.  By the time he had got outside, you had already located his bike and straddled it, facing backwards to watch your favourite man approach.  He straightened his cut and smoothed his hands through the mass of curls atop his head, leaning back at the waist as he lit a cigarette and blew smoke into the night sky.

“You know, that’s not the advised riding position,” he pointed out, offering you the smoke.  You winked as you took it, taking a long drag and watching the stream of smoke funnel through your pursed lips,

“Some kind of expert, are we?” you teased, cocking an eyebrow.  He ran his tongue over his bottom lip and sucked air through his teeth like a mechanic giving a quote,

“Ooh baby that’s gonna cost you,” he warned with a salacious grin, “But yeah, I’d say the evidence points in my favour so far,”

You leaned back over the matt black fuel tank as he gripped the handlebars either side of you and swung his leg over to sit on the seat.  Leaning forward, he took the cigarette from your fingers with his mouth and smoked the last bit, grinding the butt under the heel of his boot.  You leaned up and bit his bottom lip just hard enough to cause the blood to rush to the surface and Tig to hiss,

“Oh we’re playing that game, huh?” quick as a flash, the chains at his hip were undone and wrapped expertly around your wrists and the handlebars of the Harley.  You shifted slightly, inadvertently grinding against his already very evident arousal.  He swiped two fingers up the crotch of your underwear and raised an eyebrow, tipping his head to the side as he contemplated your position.

“Tig, no.  Absolutely no way,” you laughed nervously, “not here, you cannot be thinking what I think you’re thinking,” you shook your head, mouth curled up at the edges in amusement at your boyfriend’s exhibitionism.  You had both screwed in the club before, but that was only during the booze-fests when everyone was at it, even Clay and Gemma (albeit in the office rather than the bar).  Your protests held absolutely no conviction though and Tig knew you were enjoying yourself.

“Well, sweetheart, that depends what you think I am thinking.  You wanted to know if I was an expert,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “how’s about I show you how I ride, right here, right now,”

“What the fuck Tig?! Anyone could walk out and see!”

“We best give ‘em a good show then baby,” he leaned down and nibbled at your ear, causing you to squeal, “Shh, shh.  Unless you WANT them to come and watch, I could easily go and get-”

“-Don’t you dare, Trager!” you warned with a snort, wrapping your legs around his waist as he made to get off the bike.  Changing tack, you pouted, “I know you want me baby, show me how you ride,” you coaxed, fluttering your long lashes and biting your lip.

“Oh darlin’, I have every intention of doing just that,” he promised, peeling your underwear down your legs and pocketing them.


End file.
